


Ever So Sweet

by msmaj



Series: 2019 Songfic Writing Challenge [4]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, a post-breakup meditation on sweets, emo cupcake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 22:24:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20983379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmaj/pseuds/msmaj
Summary: Jughead does his best to avoid the bake sale. Or, The Day of the Emo Cupcake.





	Ever So Sweet

_ _

_Ever so sweet_  
_You baked it in cakes for me._  
_What you left behind,_  
_It hurts my teeth._  
_Bring in the past_  
_With the postcards you sent for me._

_Every line,_  
_It brings me right back down._  
**Ever So Sweet- The Early November**

“Relax, Jug, it’s just a cookie. It’s not gonna bite you,” Toni teases the cookie in front of his face for a few seconds before retracting it back, rolling her eyes and taking a bite of the treat herself.

Sweet Pea, pulling the wrapper off a delicately frosted white cupcake moaned as the strawberry center spilled onto his hands. “Yeah man,” he says through a mouthful of confectionary. “I didn’t think you EVER turned down food. Especially food as good as this,” his point articulated by shoving the remainder of the cupcake into his mouth.

“I just don’t have much of an appetite for sweets at the moment,” Jughead replies, picking his bag up off the floor. He tries not to look across the cafeteria, at the table laden with perfectly baked delights, decorated meticulously in blue and yellow, raising funds for some Vixen related expense or other.

“Your loss, man.”

(If that isn’t the understatement of the century, Jughead Jones didn’t know what is. And it has nothing to do with cupcakes.)

Well, it has something to do with cupcakes. A flour-handprint map of her body. Batter-tinged kisses. Frosting in more places than was sanitary, they came to find out. Every cookie—brownie, cake, pie— now turning to dust in his mouth. His once overwhelming penchant for all things sweet went out the door around the same time he asked Betty to stay behind hers.

Jughead shakes his head and makes for the doors, averting his gaze so he misses the blonde beauty watching his back as he slinks from the caf.

He knew it would be hard coming back to Riverdale, especially considering the circumstances of their separation, but he didn’t realize they’d be walking right into a bake sale. A Betty Cooper bake sale, no less. He knew from the first sign that she was organizing it, and from the first whiff of sugary-decadence, knew she was behind the treats actualization.

He tries to do what he told her to do, move on, but every day he’s back in these halls he wonders if the reasons he presented are even valid anymore. Nothing in this town was “safe”. Realistically, the petty crimes of the Serpents were a drop in the collective nightmare bucket that was Riverdale but he still resolves to keep her firmly away from any such activity.

Before he knows it he’s back at the cafeteria. He hasn’t intentionally walked his way back. (It’s not like he’s forgotten the layout of the school he lived in) It’s just now, every turn leads to more stares and hushed conversations about the weird loner who picked up a gang when he crossed the tracks. The leather jacket that felt like armor on the South Side feels more like a straight jacket, suffocating and choking the parts of himself he once knew to be true. A swatch of gold across the room distracts him, almost as if she knows he sees her with how slowly she turns around to face him. He finds himself helplessly rooted to the spot as their eyes finally meet.

They look more blue in this light than the green he knows them to be. Lips, as pink and kissable as ever, quirk into a facsimile of a smile as she lifts her hand to him. He nods tersely in response, stepping back and turning to get away from anyone else who dares walk by him with something _she_ baked in their hands.

Without meaning to, again, he finds himself standing in front of a familiar door. He’s only gone in once when she was there, finding the memories too hard to bear when he has to see her face and smell her perfume but not be able to reach out and touch her.

The door to the Blue and Gold opens with ease; crossing the threshold is much more difficult.

Once inside, the onslaught of memories is tamped down, or drowned out, by whoever is screaming through his headphones. At this desk, the one that was his before his world turned upside down, words flow from his fingers as though they’re meant to do nothing in this world but create.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been in there exactly, he has a free period after lunch that he usually spends writing anyway, today the words come freely, without hesitation or question. He stops only when in his periphery a dainty hand appears, holding what looks to be the biggest chocolate cupcake he’s ever seen.

Jughead slides the headphones down so they rest against his neck, not bothering to pause the noise spilling from them. “It didn’t look like you ate much today,” Betty says, still holding the cupcake out to him. Closing his laptop he moves to take it from her, careful not to meet any part of her skin with his.

He wants to say he isn’t hungry, but she knows him too well. Regardless of what their relationship is now, he refuses to lie to her. More carefully he says, “I haven’t had the appetite for sweets.”

She nods, hands wringing in front of her now that they’re empty. “I know the feeling.”

Part of him wonders if it’s something to do with Alice, Betty’s aversion to food in general, it seems to stem from her. He looks at the cupcake and tries to remember seeing any more on the bake sale table, or in anyone's hands, but he can’t seem to place them. He clears his throat. “Maybe if I’d seen these I’d have been more inclined to help the Vixens…”

“Raise money for the South Side Rec Center.” she supplies, eyes shining brightly when his head snaps toward hers. “Toni mentioned something about the roof needing repairs so we figured this was the best way, not only to raise the money but to show some outward communal unity. Who can resist a bake sale?” She shrugs as if any of what she’s just said was nonchalant. Something bubbles in his chest, a mix of pride and hope and it feels so, so good he doesn’t even try to fight it.

“Who can resist a Betty Cooper run bake sale is the more apropos question,” her smile falters a little as his own mouth softens into one.

“It didn’t seem too hard for you to stay away. Once upon a time, it would have been impossible for you to resist. And for the record,” she takes a deep breath, straightening her spine so she seems impossibly tall in front of him. The sun is streaming through the windows now, lighting her up, her ethereal beauty never more appreciated than at this moment. “You didn’t see those because they weren’t for sale.”

He holds the cupcake in question up, it seems innocuous enough, chocolate cake, chocolate frosting. He bets it tastes amazing, exactly like he remembers from when they’d make them together. There are a few other things he remembers as the chocolatey aroma assails his senses: how much richer the batter tasted between their fused mouths, the way her tongue swirled around his finger in her attempt to remove every last drop of frosting he’d try to sneak when her back was turned. He shivers despite feeling like he’s burning under the layers of flannel and leather.

“That seems like a bad business decision, Betts. You could raise the money with these alone,” he says setting the cupcake down on his laptop, not missing the way she winces when the old nickname slips out. She recovers quickly though. She always does, he tells himself knowing full well that’s not _entirely_ (if at all) true.

“It is my best cupcake. Cheryl tried to put them out but seeing them, well,” her head shakes as if she’s trying to rid herself of her thoughts entirely. “Turns out you’re the only person I want, to have one.” The pause between ‘want’ and ‘to’ sets his teeth on edge. He wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, taste the indescribable sweetness that is Betty Cooper, press pieces of the cupcake to her swollen lips and feel her sharp tongue caress his rough, ready skin once more. It doesn’t make it any easier that she’s standing in front of him in her Vixens uniform, hands worrying the hem of her skirt.

But that day won’t be today. It can’t be, not yet. Not until he’s on steadier ground with the Serpents, not until he knows she won’t have to wade through the muck just to stand at his side. Instead of saying any of this he shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “Thanks for thinking of me, Betty.”

He watches her swallow, jaw clenching before she softly replies, “It’s all I do, Juggie.” She turns away from him quickly, crossing the room and closing the door quietly behind her. It’s only fair, he supposes, that it’s his turn to watch the person he loves walk away.

There’s wetness on his cheeks that wasn’t there a moment ago and his sniffles seem louder than should be allowed to be in the stillness of the room. His eyes find the cupcake and his stomach rumbles in response. He knows that even one taste will be too much, like she was, and he’ll be ruined all over. He stares the cupcake down until the bell rings knowing he can’t throw it away but isn’t able to bring himself to eat it either.  
After he packs up his laptop, he finds a roll of paper towels and attempts to wrap the cupcake. (It might be a little squished by the time he gets home but he’s sure FP will appreciate it nonetheless.) It’s like a brick in his hand, on his mind, on his heart, even as it sits in his locker waiting for the day to end. Nothing this good is supposed to hurt this badly. He knows that’s patently untrue; his relationship with Betty was the best thing in his life and when it ended, both times, he felt utterly unmoored.

He’s trying to find his bearings, to balance life and the Serpents and his own expectations without hurting anyone else. He has to get his head on right before he falls on his knees and begs her to take him back.

She _deserves_ that much. All of him. It’s not like he’s waiting to meet some impossible standard he thinks she deserves, he knows she’ll accept the broken parts and help him piece them back together. But he needs to be able to do the same for her, and right now he simply can’t. There are too many variables out of their control.

When she walks out of their shared class at the end of the day and stops to look back at him he knows it isn’t over. She still looks sad, there’s a slightly red hue to her eyes that wasn’t there earlier, but she still smiles at him. He can’t help but return it.

Later, after he finally gets home, the now deformed cupcake sits on the counter. When he took it from his locker it felt lighter than it had going in, something delicate that deserved treasuring rather than needed lugged. Instead of leaving it for his father he decides to eat half, now that he’s had a minute to get his head right. He’s realized that even if it’s symbolic or too reminiscent of a past he’s desperately trying to get back to, that it’s just a cupcake. That Betty Cooper made especially for him, and that can never be a bad thing. Surprisingly, the chocolate doesn't hurt nearly as bad as he thought it would.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hey there, again! Yes, you're seeing this again. I do apologize. But, this is the last one that has to be reposted so huzzah! Anywho, hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Songfic Day Four: A song that reminds you of someone you'd rather forget- Ever So Sweet-The Early November.
> 
> Header by the incomparable theheavycrown.


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